Little Miss Dreamalot
by Culanaluana
Summary: Magic is awakening. The old ways are dying as the belief of man fades with it. There is talk of a dreamer, who is gentle kind and God fearing. The Dreamer will repair all things with her pure heart and vivid dreams. Meshullam has a mission to find the dreamer before the mythical world of Zionovia crumbles and swallowed by the great unbelief altogether.


Everyone knew I was a dreamer. No one knew that I was secretly a wisher as well. I was also a avid reader but I only read fairy stories and other books in the fantasy genre. I was a big believer in fairy tales so I believed that good things happened to good people and the antagonists always came to a bad end. Somehow my own story hadn't played out that way, at least not yet anyway. I thought I was a good person. I knew I definitely wasn't a bad one so what was I missing? I wish I could tell you some heart wrenching tragic story about how a orphan girl escaped to another world on the back of a Magical horse where there were rainbows, edible cotton candy clouds and lemon drops on the horizon. Yet I doubt you'd want to hear that story because firstly it isn't true and secondly I'm not even a orphan and thirdly I hate the color pink and I don't know how to ride a horse let alone a magical flying one. No my story is certainly austere enough in fact there are no pink fluffy clouds and rainbows involved. Although I love rainbows very much there aren't any rainbows in this story so yet again I'm sorry to disappoint you. There is magic and adventure and grim grumpy faced uncles and a terribly miserable looking reform school run by a witch named Mrs. Vandeman. She's not really a witch and she doesn't ride a broom, she just has a witchy attitude no one seems to like except my uncle Amsterdam. Yes he was named after a city, he was originally going to be called Alistair but his parents changed their mind's at the last moment and so now he's stuck with the name. So I imagine he's been miserable ever since.

He's was probably a miserable child growing up because he's miserable every day. Maybe it's just his face, the long boxer dog frowning countenance. Perhaps inside he's really smiling but I doubt it. He maybe all the family I have left but I would rather have none then have him as a relative. Mrs. Vandeman treats us all like vagrants anyway, So being an orphan wouldn't be such a bother to tell you the truth. I still can't believe my uncle is actually paying for me to stay in such a dump. It's a private boarding school for troubled girls. I guess that gives you a big hint of what my uncle really thinks of me. He doesn't even like children. I know this for a fact because he told me. He told me Children and him don't get on. He's not a children person.

He must have loved my mother though. He absolutely adored my mother in fact. She was his baby sister but unfortunately she was too spirited for him and she flew away with a wind named Mateo. Mateo is my father. He was italian and Uncle didn't get on with Italians either so of course he didn't approve of the match. He said this Mateo fellow was highly unsuitable but she never asked his opinion, thus I was born.

So there is my family history in a nutshell.

History is boring so I won't be one of those authors who go off at length about family history. Oh history of folklore, myth and legend can certainly ineresting but the history of dead presidents and long gone monarchs can be a real drag. Wars were faught, some wars were won, others were lost. Villains rule mightily over the good and the innocent die at the hands of the wicked. History is like that; there is never a happy ending. There are no dragons slain and no fairy godmothers around to set things right. So this is why I don't care for history. I don't care for any of the subjects actually. In fact to tell you the truth I'm not able to focus on any of the required studies. I have a difficult time focusing period. This makes Mrs. Vandeman my worst enemy. She thinks children are unpredictable beasts. I may be unpredictable but I am certainly no beast. Dragons are beasts. Saber tooth tigers and woolly mammoths are beasts as well but children are the happy sort that are supposed to skip, laugh and frolic through life until they eventually grow up. Growing up is a tricky business and can be a extremely delicate process. I wonder if uncle knew anything about the delicacy of near teen hood. I was eleven years old which meant I was nearly twelve. Twelve is the age when your body screams for more room to grow in. Growing can be ghastly. I was going to need new clothes, new shoes, special under wear and someone to give me a pep talk about the coming of womanhood. If all I had for family was my uncle things were going to get very scary. Imagine the horror of discussing raging hormones with your Mother's Big Boxer faced brother. Not that he was overweight or anything. He was actually quite trim but compared to my pitifully tiny body he was practically massive. He was a giant and I was gnome. No I was more of hobbit than a gnome. Gnomes are secretive and usually used as lawn ornaments. Hobbits are real home bodies who enjoy fine food and good company. They aren't mysterious and introverted like Elves are They definitely aren't warlike and hot tempered like dwarves. They keep out of wars and they generally mind their own business unless of course some wily wizard named Gandalf gives you nudge out the door. So hobbits have grand adventures every once and awhile with or without the help of wizards. So that meant I was in for a epic adventure soon.

Hobbits are loyal and genuinely lovable creatures as well. Why no one had the hear to love me is a real mystery. Uncle should love me. I was his beloved sister's only child. Maybe when I grew up we would be close but until then it was going to be very lonely. I would be sent to him and his dismal manor on the holidays. We never had anything to talk about. We gave so little in common that we eventually both give up on conversation altogether.

I wish my uncle was more sociable. I wish I was more sociable. I'm terrible at social confrontation. I don't mix well with the other girls my age. The girls here are usually so worried about their own problems that they don't even bother with me. I don't bother them and they don't bother me; that's my system. It works for my uncle why not for me as well? Uncle taught me to shut the world out and that's just what I'm doing. So I keep to my books and hide behind my dreams and I hope that a dragon will take me far, far away from this land of no rainbows and magic. Yes I wish every night that I'll meet a dragon in the woods somewhere and he'll feel sorry for me and take me to his world where there is gold on the end of every rainbow. Sounds ridiculously cheesy but any place it better than this world where nothing makes sense and all the subjects in class go vague and fuzzy. All the words run into another making one big glob of folderal. The information doesn't stay in my head, it just buzzes around and then takes the nearest exit outside my brain. Yes it's unfortunate but I really can't help it. I doodle, I dawdle, and I dream on. I'm always distracted by some other story in my head. I can't let go of a good story when it comes to visit.

I keep wishing some magical thing will disrupt my dull life and I'll become a new person because of it. Yet nothing happens. Still i Dream and I wish until it becomes a habit, a habit that is so much a part of me that it is absolutely automatic.

 _I want a dragon to take me far away from this place._

I don't think it, I just do it. I wish this every morning and every night, sometimes even in the afternoon I wish it without even thinking. It's not really a prayer, it's not even a mantra, it's just a routine, a common place ritual. I may be mentally disturbed but I am crazy about dragons. Dragons are my favorite mythological creature of all time. They are wise, unpredictable, immensely clever and massively majestic. They speak in riddles and in different tongues. I've heard they have a language all their own that nobody understands except by those who respect dragons. No creature in all mythology can match the strength, stamina, and great wisdom of the dragon. No mere mortal can tame them because they are wild animals after all. Many a brave knight have died in attempt to slay such a beast and many heroes have been slain under the fire of the ferocious dragon. Dragons use also their tails as a weapon against their foes. I've read that some dragons even have venomous fangs and even poisonous breath. They eat livestock of all sorts and on rare occasions screaming young maidens. Dragons are quite opportunistic when outside their dens. They have a high tendency to collect a massive amounts of objects, ranging r

from extremely valuable to absolutely worthless. It all depends on the breed and demeanor of the dragon. In plain english it means every dragon has a unique personality and a certain level of intelligence. There are also different types of dragons. For instance not all dragons have wings and some are not even capable of breathing fire. There are certain kinds of dragons that live in holes while others reside in abandoned caves. If I would be a Dragonologist if i could. Sadly I cannot sit around reading about dragons all day so I'm stuck studying about dinosaurs and the migration pattern of butterflies. Dead bones and Butterflies are not quite as interesting as Dragons. Anyone can look at a pile of dead bones anyday and Every one has seen what a butterfly looks like unless of course one was born blind. Museums have plenty of dead bones and many documentaries have been made recording the whereabouts of butterflies. There have been even more numerous films on the subject of dinosaur bones. How is learning about extinct creatures that died thousands of years ago going help me in my adulthood? Unless I intend to be a photo journalist or a museum curator none of these subjects are in the least helpful. Learn mythology and you can tap into not only the distant past but into the dreams and fears people once had long ago. Folklore is history too. It may not be true but it tells a story nonetheless. Why won't any one believe me? Dragons are even in the bible at least I've heard they are. Dragons are a sign of evil in some religions but there sign of goodness for me. Whenever I dream of dragons in my sleep I know I'm going to have good day; Even if the day starts off a bit rocky it's sure to end smoothly. Dragons in my book are a good omen. Are you still hankering for that unicorn?

Unicorn keep to themselves and they only approach those who are pure of heart.

Wouldn't be nice if dragons only made themselves known to people who are pure of heart instead? Don't answer that.

I don't want a unicorn. All I want is a dragon. Not the marauding virgin stealing type. Just the kind that bares it teeth but never bites. Perhaps he is a vegetarian or he doesn't consider humans to be very appetizing. It should be a he. A male dragon will do. Creatures of the male persuasion tend to be more protective over women and children. Female Dragons are far too vain to bother with helping humans. They're too busy hoarding magical artifacts to worry about the lives of human beings. You know I'm just making this up don't you? I'm sorry for misleading you. Sometimes I just get a little carried away. Not just a little, alot.

This is why I'm called little Miss Dreamalot. Miss Vandeman says no good ever comes of dreaming. She also tells me that a great deal of horrible things can happen to dreamers. She told me she knew a boy who didn't have sense enough to look both ways before crossing and BOOM! SPLAT! He was dead! Knowing her she probably pushed him herself. Why? Because she's a witch and she hates little children with a vengeance.

If she really were a witch with a broom she'd never be considered a child eater.

She'd be too disgusted with children she wouldn't dare eat them. She'd probably force children to build pyramids or exspensive condos. Who needs condos when you can build castles? Castles are more appropriate in folklore.

She never was blessed with great riches, instead she was cursed to take care of children for the rest of her days. Rich People's children. Most of the children here come from wealth. Uncle is fairly wealthy, I think. I assume he came from money as well. I don't know for certain because he rarely talks to me.

He's the type that brings his newspaper to the table and grunts ever so often to indicate he's still with you in the conversation. Sometimes you'll hear him laugh slightly. I mean slightly because he doesn't exactly laugh. He brays like a cold stricken horse. After his brief braying chortle he coarsely comments how ridiculous the article is. I don't ask for him to elaborate. Adults have their form of entertainment and us children have ours.

Best keep the two worlds separate.

Children are meant to be seen but not heard. If Miss Vandeman had her way children would be sure not to be seen either. She sees children all the time so I don't blame her for wanting a break.

If I had my way all the teachers would take a long holiday and they wouldn't for a great long while. They would return in about four weeks, maybe more. Then I wouldn't have stay in this wretched school. How I miss the holidays! Yes uncle may not be the best company but at least he leaves me be and gives me the freedom to do what I want. He has a super huge library at his place. Imagine Beauty and the Beast except there's no wide open windows. There are windows but they just don't let in much sunlight. They aren't positioned correctly, plus where we live is mostly foggy anyway.

I warned you that there would be no rainbows. When you live in overly moist and dismal climate like I do you tend to imagine what life would be with the sunshine. I don't just hope for Sunshine I hope for Dragons. Every night I wish for a dragon. When life gets too gloomy I pray for dragons. I keep wondering why the creator of the universe did not award us each with our own personal dragon. Sure I believe in God. I don't mean any disrespect towards him by asking for dragons. I know there are certain prayer requests that probably don't get answered. Asking for dragons is most likely one of them. There are boundaries and limits to this world and to the very fabric of reality. Dragons aren't real. They never can be. Reality is tough sometimes.

Maybe Dragons are only real to those who believe in them. Maybe their invisible to the unbelieving. Maybe they're just hiding somewhere in some other reality. Perhaps the magic may be right next door or in your own backyard _. Perhaps_ adventure is waiting in the woods somewhere, hoping you'll wander in during the night while every one sleeps. Oh I forgot to mention, Miss Vandeman's boarding school is located right next to a dense wooded area.

Since I like to think myself somewhat of a rebel, I did happen to wander in, on my own, in the middle of the night.

I hate to leave you hanging but if you really want to know what I found there I recommend you read the next chapter.

It's just a suggestion.


End file.
